There is no subject so much connected with individual happiness and
national prosperity as the education of daughters. It is a true, and
therefore an old remark, that the situation and prospects of a country
may be justly estimated by the character of its women; and we all
know how hard it is to engraft upon a woman's character habits and
principles to which she was unaccustomed in her girlish days. It is
always extremely difficult, and sometimes utterly impossible. Is the
present education of young ladies likely to contribute to their own
ultimate happiness, or to the welfare of the country? There are many
honorable exceptions; but we do think the general tone of female
education is bad. The greatest and most universal error is, teaching
girls to exaggerate the importance of getting married; and of course
to place an undue importance upon the polite attentions of gentlemen.
It was but a few days since, I heard a pretty and sensible girl say,
'Did you ever see a man so ridiculously fond of his daughters as Mr.
----? He is all the time with them. The other night, at the party,
I went and took Anna away by mere force; for I knew she must feel
dreadfully to have her father waiting upon her all the time, while the
other girls were talking with the beaux.' And another young friend of
mine said, with an air most laughably serious, 'I don't think Harriet
and Julia enjoyed themselves at all last night. Don't you think,
nobody but their _brother_ offered to hand them to the supper-room?'
That a mother should wish to see her daughters happily married, is
natural and proper; that a young lady should be pleased with polite
attentions is likewise natural and innocent; but this undue anxiety,
this foolish excitement about showing off the attentions of somebody,
no matter whom, is attended with consequences seriously injurious. It
promotes envy and rivalship; it leads our young girls to spend their
time between the public streets, the ball room, and the toilet; and,
worst of all, it leads them to contract engagements, without any
knowledge of their own hearts, merely for the sake of being married as
soon as their companions. When married, they find themselves ignorant
of the important duties of domestic life; and its quiet pleasures
soon grow tiresome to minds worn out by frivolous excitements. If they
remain unmarried, their disappointment and discontent are, of course,
in proportion to their exaggerated idea of the eclat attendant upon
having a lover. The evil increases in a startling ratio; for these
girls, so injudiciously educated, will, nine times out of ten,
make injudicious mothers, aunts, and friends; thus follies will be
accumulated unto the third and fourth generation. Young ladies should
be taught that usefulness is happiness, and that all other things are
but incidental. With regard to matrimonial speculations, they should
be taught nothing! Leave the affections to nature and to truth, and
all will end well. How many can I at this moment recollect, who have
made themselves unhappy by marrying for the sake of the _name_ of
being married! How many do I know, who have been instructed to such
watchfulness in the game, that they have lost it by trumping their own
tricks!
One great cause of the vanity, extravagance and idleness that are
so fast growing upon our young ladies, is the absence of _domestic
education_. By domestic education, I do not mean the sending daughters
into the kitchen some half dozen times, to weary the patience of the
cook, and to boast of it the next day in the parlor. I mean two
or three years spent with a mother, assisting her in her duties,
instructing brothers and sisters, and taking care of their own
clothes. This is the way to make them happy, as well as good wives;
for, being early accustomed to the duties of life, they will sit
lightly as well as gracefully upon them.
But what time do modern girls have for the formation of quiet,
domestic habits? Until sixteen they go to school; sometimes these
years are judiciously spent, and sometimes they are half wasted;
too often they are spent in acquiring the _elements_ of a thousand
sciences, without being thoroughly acquainted with any; or in a
variety of accomplishments of very doubtful value to people of
moderate fortune. As soon as they leave school, (and sometimes
before,) they begin a round of balls and parties, and staying with
gay young friends. Dress and flattery take up all their thoughts. What
time have they to learn to be useful? What time have they to cultivate
the still and gentle affections, which must, in every situation
of life, have such an important effect on a woman's character and
happiness?
As far as parents can judge what will be a daughter's station,
education should be adapted to it; but it is well to remember that it
is always easy to know how to spend riches, and always safe to know
how to bear poverty.
A superficial acquaintance with such accomplishments as music and
drawing is useless and undesirable. They should not be attempted
unless there is taste, talent, and time enough to attain excellence. I
have frequently heard young women of moderate fortune say, 'I have not
opened my piano these five years. I wish I had the money expended upon
it. If I had employed as much time in learning useful things, I should
have been better fitted for the cares of my family.'
By these remarks I do not mean to discourage an attention to
the graces of life. Gentility and taste are always lovely in all
situations. But good things, carried to excess, are often productive
of bad consequences. When accomplishments and dress interfere with
the duties and permanent happiness of life, they are unjustifiable and
displeasing; but where there is a solid foundation in mind and heart,
all those elegancies are but becoming ornaments.
Some are likely to have more use for them than others; and they are
justified in spending more time and money upon them. But no one should
be taught to consider them valuable for mere parade and attraction.
Making the education of girls such a series of 'man-traps,' makes the
whole system unhealthy, by poisoning the motive.
* * * * *
In tracing evils of any kind, which exist in society, we must,
after all, be brought up against the great cause of all
mischief--_mismanagement in education_; and this remark applies
with peculiar force to the leading fault of the present day, viz.
extravagance. It is useless to expend our ingenuity in purifying the
stream, unless the fountain be cleansed. If young men and young
women are brought up to consider frugality contemptible, and industry
degrading, it is vain to expect they will at once become prudent and
useful, when the cares of life press heavily upon them. Generally
speaking, when misfortune comes upon those who have been accustomed to
thoughtless expenditure, it sinks them to discouragement, or, what is
worse, drives them to desperation. It is true there are exceptions.
There are a few, an honorable few, who, late in life, with Roman
severity of resolution, learn the long-neglected lesson of economy.
But how small is the number, compared with the whole mass of the
population! And with what bitter agony, with what biting humiliation,
is the hard lesson often learned! How easily might it have been
engrafted on _early habits_, and naturally and gracefully 'grown with
their growth, and strengthened with their strength!'
Yet it was but lately that I visited a family, not of 'moderate
fortune,' but of no fortune at all; one of those people who live
'nobody knows how;' and I found a young girl, about sixteen,
practising on the piano, while an elderly lady beside her was darning
her stockings. I was told (for the mother was proud of bringing up her
child so genteelly) that the daughter had almost forgotten how to
sew, and that a woman was hired into the house to do her mending! 'But
why,' said I, 'have you suffered your daughter to be ignorant of so
useful an employment? If she is poor, the knowledge will be necessary
to her; if she is rich, it is the easiest thing in the world to lay it
aside, if she chooses; she will merely be a better judge whether her
work is well done by others.' 'That is true,' replied the mother; 'and
I always meant she should learn; but she never has seemed to have any
time. When she was eight years old, she could put a shirt together
pretty well; but since that, her music, and her dancing, and her
school, have taken up her whole time. I did mean she should learn
some domestic habits this winter; but she has so many visiters, and is
obliged to go out so much, that I suppose I must give it up. I don't
like to say too much about it; for, poor girl! she does so love
company, and she does so hate anything like care and confinement!
_Now_ is her time to enjoy herself, you know. Let her take all the
comfort she can, while she is single!' 'But,' said I, 'you wish her
to marry some time or other; and, in all probability, she will marry.
When will she learn how to perform the duties, which are necessary
and important to every mistress of a family?' 'Oh, she will learn
them when she is obliged to,' answered the injudicious mother; 'at all
events, I am determined she shall enjoy herself while she is young.'
And this is the way I have often heard mothers talk! Yet, could
parents foresee the almost inevitable consequences of such a system, I
believe the weakest and vainest would abandon the false and dangerous
theory. What a lesson is taught a girl in that sentence, '_Let
her enjoy herself all she can, while she is single_!' Instead of
representing domestic life as the gathering place of the deepest and
purest affections; as the sphere of woman's _enjoyments_ as well as of
her _duties_; as, indeed, the whole world to her; that one pernicious
sentence teaches a girl to consider matrimony desirable because 'a
good match' is a triumph of vanity, and it is deemed respectable to
be 'well settled in the world;' but that it is a necessary sacrifice
of her freedom and her gayety. And then how many affectionate
dispositions have been trained into heartlessness, by being taught
that the indulgence of indolence and vanity were necessary to their
happiness; and that to have this indulgence, they _must_ marry money!
But who that marries for money, in this land of precarious fortunes,
can tell how soon they will lose the glittering temptation, to which
they have been willing to sacrifice so much? And even if riches last
as long as life, the evil is not remedied. Education has given a wrong
end and aim to their whole existence; they have been taught to look
for happiness where it never can be found, viz. in the absence of
all occupation, or the unsatisfactory and ruinous excitement of
fashionable competition.
The difficulty is, education does not usually point the female heart
to its only true resting-place. That dear English word '_home_,'
is not half so powerful a talisman as '_the world_.' Instead of
the salutary truth, that happiness is _in_ duty, they are taught to
consider the two things totally distinct; and that whoever seeks one,
must sacrifice the other.
The fact is, our girls have no _home education_. When quite young,
they are sent to schools where no feminine employments, no domestic
habits, can be learned; and there they continue till they 'come out'
into the world. After this, few find any time to arrange, and make
use of, the mass of elementary knowledge they have acquired; and fewer
still have either leisure or taste for the inelegant, every-day duties
of life. Thus prepared, they enter upon matrimony. Those early habits,
which would have made domestic care a light and easy task, have never
been taught, for fear it would interrupt their happiness; and the
result is, that when cares come, as come they must, they find them
misery. I am convinced that indifference and dislike between husband
and wife are more frequently occasioned by this great error in
education, than by any other cause.
The bride is awakened from her delightful dream, in which carpets,
vases, sofas, white gloves, and pearl earrings, are oddly jumbled up
with her lover's looks and promises. Perhaps she would be surprised
if she knew exactly how _much_ of the fascination of being engaged
was owing to the aforesaid inanimate concern. Be that as it will, she
is awakened by the unpleasant conviction that cares devolve upon her.
And what effect does this produce upon her character? Do the holy and
tender influences of domestic love render self-denial and exertion a
bliss? No! They would have done so, had she been _properly educated_;
but now she gives way to unavailing fretfulness and repining; and
her husband is at first pained, and finally disgusted, by hearing,
'I never knew what care was when I lived in my father's house.' 'If
I were to live my life over again, I would remain single as long as
I could, without the risk of being an old maid.' How injudicious, how
short-sighted is the policy, which thus mars the whole happiness of
life, in order to make a few brief years more gay and brilliant! I
have known many instances of domestic ruin and discord produced by
this mistaken indulgence of mothers. _I never knew but one, where
the victim had moral courage enough to change all her early habits._
She was a young, pretty, and very amiable girl; but brought up to be
perfectly useless; a rag baby would, to all intents and purposes,
have been as efficient a partner. She married a young lawyer, without
property, but with good and increasing practice. She meant to be a
good wife, but she did not know how. Her wastefulness involved him in
debt. He did not reproach, though he tried to convince and instruct
her. She loved him; and weeping replied, 'I try to do the best I can;
but when I lived at home, mother always took care of everything.'
Finally, poverty came upon him 'like an armed man;' and he went into
a remote town in the Western States to teach a school. His wife folded
her hands, and cried; while he, weary and discouraged, actually came
home from school to cook his own supper. At last, his patience, and
her real love for him, impelled her to exertion. She promised to
learn to be useful, if he would teach her. And she did learn! And the
change in her habits gradually wrought such a change in her husband's
fortune, that she might bring her daughters up in idleness, had not
experience taught her that economy, like grammar, is a very hard and
tiresome study, after we are twenty years old.
Perhaps some will think the evils of which I have been speaking are
confined principally to the rich; but I am convinced they extend to
all classes of people. All manual employment is considered degrading;
and those who are compelled to do it, try to conceal it. A few years
since, very respectable young men at our colleges, cut their own wood,
and blacked their own shoes. Now, how few, even of the sons of plain
farmers and industrious mechanics, have moral courage enough to do
without a servant; yet when they leave college, and come out into the
battle of life, they _must_ do without servants; and in these times
it will be fortunate if one half of them get what is called 'a decent
living,' even by rigid economy and patient toil. Yet I would not that
servile and laborious employment should be forced upon the young.
I would merely have each one educated according to his probable
situation in life; and be taught that whatever is his duty, is
honorable; and that no merely external circumstance can in reality
injure true dignity of character. I would not cramp a boy's energies
by compelling him always to cut wood, or draw water; but I would teach
him not to be ashamed, should his companions happen to find him doing
either one or the other. A few days since, I asked a grocer's lad to
bring home some articles I had just purchased at his master's. The
bundle was large; he was visibly reluctant to take it; and wished very
much that I should send for it. This, however, was impossible; and he
subdued his pride; but when I asked him to take back an empty bottle
which belonged to the store, he, with a mortified look, begged me to
do it up neatly in a paper, that it might look like a small package.
Is this boy likely to be happier for cherishing a foolish pride, which
will forever be jarring against his duties? Is he in reality one
whit more respectable than the industrious lad who sweeps stores, or
carries bottles, without troubling himself with the idea that all the
world is observing his little unimportant self? For, in relation to
the rest of the world, each individual is unimportant; and he alone
is wise who forms his habits according to his own wants, his own
prospects, and his own principles.